... Fish are jumpin', and so on. In the UK, we have a daylight saving 'British Summer Time' period which lasts from the last Sunday in March to the last one in October, so that the clocks are put forward by an hour in spring and and back by an hour in Autumn. This is a device dreamed up during the First World War in 1916 to increase weapons production, and extended by a double hour during the Second World War for the same reason. Historically, prior to that, 'Greenwich Time' was standard throughout the UK except for Ireland, where a 'Dublin Standard Time', 23 minutes later and astronomically correct for Dublin, was used-this was abolished with the 1916 legislation. Prior to that, the Greenwich Time had been adopted when the builing of railways required a standard national time for timetabling and signalling purposes. Before that, every parish set it's own church or town square clock to midday when the sun was due south, so time varied according to how far east or west of the Greenwich Meridian you were, though places due north or south of each other showed the same times, assuming thier astromomcal observations were correct and their timepieces accurate. I live in Cardiff, where the correct astronomical time is 13 minutes behind Greenwich. In some parts of South Wales, local time is set at 1980.
Between 1968 and 1971, BST time was used experimentally all year to end the confusion caused by the spring and autumn changes, but eventually abandoned due to worries over schoolchildrens' safety in the dark mornings, the sky not starting to get light until nearly 10 am in the north of the country. Ever since, there have been attempts to re-introduce this 'permanent summer' and another is in the parliamentary pipeline now.
Personally, I would like to see the re-introduction of GMT year round (actually, I favour the re-introduction of astronomical time so that it would be easier to use an analogue watch as a compass, but I don't think that is likely), but I do think that there is a case for arguing that the time adopted is irrelevant, just so long as it is the same all year.
Despite being a devout atheist of many years standing, there is something about all this that smacks of humans interfering with god's sublime creation, and we all know where that leads, don't we, children, remember Dr. Frankenstien! (Devon yokel accent) B'aint natrull, oi tells ee. Trouble'll come of it...
This is one of those issues where I find myself in a minortiy of one, like the use of the death penalty for people who park illegally (their car would be crushed on the first offence, and crushed with them in it on the second, no excuses, no trial, no appeal just summary execution). Ok nurse, I'll take the nice medication now...
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Saturday, 23 October 2010
Senile Delinquency
I have just got back from a trip to my local shops (oh, yeah, life on the edge, that's me, no fear....) where an old guy tried to push in front of me in the queue for the till. He didn't get away with it, because I saw him coming and strategically positioned myself to block his gambit.
So he got in behind me, muttered a few things under his breath for 30 seconds or so, and strared hitting me, punching me in the small of the back. I turned round and asked him to stop, and he offered me outside!!! He must've been into his 80s, and appeared to be sober, or at least I couldn't smell booze on hime. I suggested, without being abusive, that he might want to consider the possible consequences of this, calm down and behave himself, and leave me alone, and he promptly stated that he wasn't afreid of me and repeated his offer.
I further suggested that he was a silly old sod and again asked him to leave me alone, which fortunately he did this time , though contineing to mutter under his breath in a way that suggested he was not being entirely complimentary to me, my parentage, or anything else to do with me.
Had the situation developed, I would, I confess, have been at a loss as to how to deal with it. On the one hand nobody wants to start knocking pensioners around, on the other I was being physically assaulted. Bad enough that I had to infer a threat of violence to dissuade the bugger; if he'd persisted would I have been right to back the threat up with actual argy-bargy, or should I have let the bloke hit me without response. I suppose if push had come to shove, I'd have had to defend myself, but I was seriously glad that there would have been plenty of bystanders to have witnessed what had led to my aciton. I hope I would have avoided physical abuse, but, as I say, I will not allow violence perpetrated no me to go unchallenged. I do not go around punching other people and consider myself justified in demanding that they do not do so to me.
I con't believe i'd have hit the poor old sod, but I may well have resorted to pushing hime away in order to prevent his hitting me! Suppose he'd been pushed over and actually injured himself. Cue assault charges and court case against me for something someone else caused.
I really must try and get rid of the big neon sign saying 'victim' which apparently floats about 2 feet above my head at all times, as I have an unfortunate habit of attracting this sort of behaviour, in the same way that the nutter on the bus always goes out of his way to set by me. I am fed up with the way the world treats me . Just you all wait till I get my AK47....
So he got in behind me, muttered a few things under his breath for 30 seconds or so, and strared hitting me, punching me in the small of the back. I turned round and asked him to stop, and he offered me outside!!! He must've been into his 80s, and appeared to be sober, or at least I couldn't smell booze on hime. I suggested, without being abusive, that he might want to consider the possible consequences of this, calm down and behave himself, and leave me alone, and he promptly stated that he wasn't afreid of me and repeated his offer.
I further suggested that he was a silly old sod and again asked him to leave me alone, which fortunately he did this time , though contineing to mutter under his breath in a way that suggested he was not being entirely complimentary to me, my parentage, or anything else to do with me.
Had the situation developed, I would, I confess, have been at a loss as to how to deal with it. On the one hand nobody wants to start knocking pensioners around, on the other I was being physically assaulted. Bad enough that I had to infer a threat of violence to dissuade the bugger; if he'd persisted would I have been right to back the threat up with actual argy-bargy, or should I have let the bloke hit me without response. I suppose if push had come to shove, I'd have had to defend myself, but I was seriously glad that there would have been plenty of bystanders to have witnessed what had led to my aciton. I hope I would have avoided physical abuse, but, as I say, I will not allow violence perpetrated no me to go unchallenged. I do not go around punching other people and consider myself justified in demanding that they do not do so to me.
I con't believe i'd have hit the poor old sod, but I may well have resorted to pushing hime away in order to prevent his hitting me! Suppose he'd been pushed over and actually injured himself. Cue assault charges and court case against me for something someone else caused.
I really must try and get rid of the big neon sign saying 'victim' which apparently floats about 2 feet above my head at all times, as I have an unfortunate habit of attracting this sort of behaviour, in the same way that the nutter on the bus always goes out of his way to set by me. I am fed up with the way the world treats me . Just you all wait till I get my AK47....
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
Well done Chile!
Lovely to have some good news for a change, and the success of the rescue of the Chilean miners after 10 weeks is a real cheeruper! Chile is not a 3rd world country, but at the same time not the sort of place you'd call at the cutting edge of technology. Nonetheless, they have put on a magnificent rescue effort, and a tremenduous example of what humans can do when they put thier minds to it; and they have been rewarded with success.
The little capsule, 'Fenix', is the real life version of Thunderbirds' 'mole', but in actuality little more than a tin can whose success (fingers crossed as the rescue is proceeding as I type) depends on the straightness and smoothness of a remarkably small shaft, drilled at an angle with amazing precision over a considerable distance. The thing is winched up and down on a steel cable-no high tech here, but it works1 I cannot help but smile as miner after miner emerges and is swamped by hugs from his delighted family. The media are making a meal of it, of course, and Chile's president is making political capital out of it, but not too much so in all fairness, and who in fairness can blame them. This is one of those few news stories that anyone anywhere can take nothing but pleasure in-just plain heartwarming.
And I've needed it, as the darker side of humanity has been intruding into my poor little existence. I've managed in the space of one week to lose a bicycle and a mobile phone to thieving wastes of skin. Not a good week! I will resist the temptation to have a rant about the state of society, the morality of the sort of people who thieve off others. Bikes and phones, even annoyingly uninsured ones, are only things, which can be replaced when the money eventually allows it-Chilean miners are people, and much more important. Kudos to those who didn't give up on them in the bleak early days when it would have been easy enough to simply assume there were no survivors.
The little capsule, 'Fenix', is the real life version of Thunderbirds' 'mole', but in actuality little more than a tin can whose success (fingers crossed as the rescue is proceeding as I type) depends on the straightness and smoothness of a remarkably small shaft, drilled at an angle with amazing precision over a considerable distance. The thing is winched up and down on a steel cable-no high tech here, but it works1 I cannot help but smile as miner after miner emerges and is swamped by hugs from his delighted family. The media are making a meal of it, of course, and Chile's president is making political capital out of it, but not too much so in all fairness, and who in fairness can blame them. This is one of those few news stories that anyone anywhere can take nothing but pleasure in-just plain heartwarming.
And I've needed it, as the darker side of humanity has been intruding into my poor little existence. I've managed in the space of one week to lose a bicycle and a mobile phone to thieving wastes of skin. Not a good week! I will resist the temptation to have a rant about the state of society, the morality of the sort of people who thieve off others. Bikes and phones, even annoyingly uninsured ones, are only things, which can be replaced when the money eventually allows it-Chilean miners are people, and much more important. Kudos to those who didn't give up on them in the bleak early days when it would have been easy enough to simply assume there were no survivors.
Thursday, 22 July 2010
Leave it be, John-it's not worth the bother!
Do you remember when you were a kid and there were those little puzzles that were a sqare tray with tablets numbered 1-8 and only nine spaces? You had to re-organise the jumbled numbers into order which was hard because there was only one space to move into and you had to plan. Well, keep that in mind for a few minutes-you'll see why.
I think I may have mentioned before that I keep fishes. Things to avoid when you keep fishes include 1) Moving the tank around if you can avoid it. The tank, without water in, is 3' and monstrously heavy; taking the fishes out, keeping the mature water and so on is a logistical nightmeare, And 2) Putting the tank anywhere it'll get to much light, especially direct sunlight. Too much light means algae, which consume oxygen which your fishes need, harbour pollutants, looks unpleasant, and is a bugger to clean.
You will be starting to see what is coming by now. Also the weight of the whole setup was starting to deform the very strudy coffee table it was sitting on, so something had to be done. Thing is, my living room is a bit like the sqare puzzles-everything hsa to move before anything else moves, plus there are places some things can't go because they will be away from sockets, blocking fire alarm buttons and so on. But the tank had to move nonetheless, and, with the help of a burly friend, this happend yesterday without too much disturbance or problem being caused to the fishes.
However, disconnecting all the leads for lighting, computer, hi-fi and such and moving all the other furniture round to open the space for the tank in it's new place, and the cabinet it now sits which is the only furniture I have strong enough was 3 hours work before the old coffee table was gently slid across the room and the half empty aquarium was gently lifted into position. That was fairly close to the physical limit of what I am capable of, and it is as well it went up and in first time! Today, my back is a bit tender.
Now, 24 hours later, I have still not finished wiring everything back up, and there is a pile in the middle of the floor of USB hubs, cables and power supplies which can only matched to thier devices by trial and error. It is sorting itself out slowly, but at the moment I am starting to wish I hadn't bothered!
There are collateral advantages, though. My new sofa position allows me to look out on to the patio, and the monitor, through which I also view tv, faces away from the window so there are now no reflections on the screen-and I don't have to look at the kitchen all the time...
I think I may have mentioned before that I keep fishes. Things to avoid when you keep fishes include 1) Moving the tank around if you can avoid it. The tank, without water in, is 3' and monstrously heavy; taking the fishes out, keeping the mature water and so on is a logistical nightmeare, And 2) Putting the tank anywhere it'll get to much light, especially direct sunlight. Too much light means algae, which consume oxygen which your fishes need, harbour pollutants, looks unpleasant, and is a bugger to clean.
You will be starting to see what is coming by now. Also the weight of the whole setup was starting to deform the very strudy coffee table it was sitting on, so something had to be done. Thing is, my living room is a bit like the sqare puzzles-everything hsa to move before anything else moves, plus there are places some things can't go because they will be away from sockets, blocking fire alarm buttons and so on. But the tank had to move nonetheless, and, with the help of a burly friend, this happend yesterday without too much disturbance or problem being caused to the fishes.
However, disconnecting all the leads for lighting, computer, hi-fi and such and moving all the other furniture round to open the space for the tank in it's new place, and the cabinet it now sits which is the only furniture I have strong enough was 3 hours work before the old coffee table was gently slid across the room and the half empty aquarium was gently lifted into position. That was fairly close to the physical limit of what I am capable of, and it is as well it went up and in first time! Today, my back is a bit tender.
Now, 24 hours later, I have still not finished wiring everything back up, and there is a pile in the middle of the floor of USB hubs, cables and power supplies which can only matched to thier devices by trial and error. It is sorting itself out slowly, but at the moment I am starting to wish I hadn't bothered!
There are collateral advantages, though. My new sofa position allows me to look out on to the patio, and the monitor, through which I also view tv, faces away from the window so there are now no reflections on the screen-and I don't have to look at the kitchen all the time...
Sunday, 11 July 2010
The screen goes green, and I want to SCREAM!!!
Can't work up any enthusiasm at all for the World Cup Football Final tonight. I'm no footy fan to start with, but I can usually bring myself to watch 1 game every 4 years. This time I just lost interest when Brasil were knocked out (and they deserved it-they were crap), and out of Spain or Holland, the truth is, I just don't care. And to enjoy a game properly you must have at least a slight preference. Still, at least England disgraced themselves as usual, to the unadulterad joy of all Welsh, Scottish and Irish folk....
So, this gives me a brilliant opportunity to go out for either a walk or a bike ride this evening. The weather is good, and if I go over the park, or town, after 7.30, I'll have the place to myself, give or take the odd ball of tumbleweed. Magic! No squawking brats, squeaky snappy little dogs, kids on skateboards, people pushing prams who don't look where they're going, blokes who only have dogs or children so they can have something to shout at, and all the other things that conspire to make my life less fun than it should be. And empty roads to cycle on.
I am growing, or to be more truthful have grown, into a gloriously miserable old git. Almost anything that other people enjoy pisses me off, and no one else likes the things I do, so everyone thinks I am just a bit wierd (this statement of course excludes those who know me. They already know I'm wierd). My tolerance of people at large and their irritating lives is worn thin, and I don't know if this is a part of getting older or just me being ornery (lovely word from my childhood watching 'B' movie westerns. There was critters and varmints, then there was ornery critters and ornery varmints, which were worse) which I always was a bit. Everyone needs a hobby and being a misserable old git is mine, and as long as you lot persist in having brats, dogs, noisy lifestyles, ridiculous 4x4 cars and kids who cannot listen to an music track from beginning to end without switching to another one (this sends me inexplicalbly into a frothing rage), I will defend my right to my hobby.
If any aspect of the World Cup has really put my back up though, it is the unrelenting, unavoidable, all-present marketing. This is as bad as Xmas. Products which have no connection with soccer at all cannot be allowed into the shops without a little football logo on them somewhere. I sort of understand why TV manufacturers jump on the bandwagon (although I wish they wouldn't), but what have crisps, or orange squash, or shampoo, or motor oil got to do with it? In one TV advert, for Marks & Spencer, Caroline Quentin claims to love the football, but spends the time you'd have though she would use to watch the match, which is on in the background, in the kitchen preparing a sort of pick'n'dip salad with M & S products, which she then wheels into the TV room as the game finishes. The sheer illogicality of this has annoyed me to the extent that I have resolved never to shop at M & S again (yes I did, sometimes). I would have really liked to extend this boycott to all the products which have so irritatingly been connected with the World Cup in this spurious way, but that would result in death from malnutrition fairly rapidly. 'But it's only once every 4 years' they say, but in the 2 intervening years there are the Olympics (yawn) and the Rugby World Cup to put up with, and every bloody year enhances the misery of winter with fucking Xmas. which will start any day now.
And another thing...all TV adverts jumping on the bandwagon inevitably have the soundtrack of cheering crowds-but they cannot possibly represent the World Cup crowds as there are no vuvuzelas. Ah, vuvus-has anything ever been devised which is more perfect for the purpose of annoying me? Seriously, fire one of those fuckers off anywhere near me and I promise you will need major surgery to remove it.
Thank you, Ann, for provoking me into writing this here blog, as I've got some of the bile off my chest at least!
So, this gives me a brilliant opportunity to go out for either a walk or a bike ride this evening. The weather is good, and if I go over the park, or town, after 7.30, I'll have the place to myself, give or take the odd ball of tumbleweed. Magic! No squawking brats, squeaky snappy little dogs, kids on skateboards, people pushing prams who don't look where they're going, blokes who only have dogs or children so they can have something to shout at, and all the other things that conspire to make my life less fun than it should be. And empty roads to cycle on.
I am growing, or to be more truthful have grown, into a gloriously miserable old git. Almost anything that other people enjoy pisses me off, and no one else likes the things I do, so everyone thinks I am just a bit wierd (this statement of course excludes those who know me. They already know I'm wierd). My tolerance of people at large and their irritating lives is worn thin, and I don't know if this is a part of getting older or just me being ornery (lovely word from my childhood watching 'B' movie westerns. There was critters and varmints, then there was ornery critters and ornery varmints, which were worse) which I always was a bit. Everyone needs a hobby and being a misserable old git is mine, and as long as you lot persist in having brats, dogs, noisy lifestyles, ridiculous 4x4 cars and kids who cannot listen to an music track from beginning to end without switching to another one (this sends me inexplicalbly into a frothing rage), I will defend my right to my hobby.
If any aspect of the World Cup has really put my back up though, it is the unrelenting, unavoidable, all-present marketing. This is as bad as Xmas. Products which have no connection with soccer at all cannot be allowed into the shops without a little football logo on them somewhere. I sort of understand why TV manufacturers jump on the bandwagon (although I wish they wouldn't), but what have crisps, or orange squash, or shampoo, or motor oil got to do with it? In one TV advert, for Marks & Spencer, Caroline Quentin claims to love the football, but spends the time you'd have though she would use to watch the match, which is on in the background, in the kitchen preparing a sort of pick'n'dip salad with M & S products, which she then wheels into the TV room as the game finishes. The sheer illogicality of this has annoyed me to the extent that I have resolved never to shop at M & S again (yes I did, sometimes). I would have really liked to extend this boycott to all the products which have so irritatingly been connected with the World Cup in this spurious way, but that would result in death from malnutrition fairly rapidly. 'But it's only once every 4 years' they say, but in the 2 intervening years there are the Olympics (yawn) and the Rugby World Cup to put up with, and every bloody year enhances the misery of winter with fucking Xmas. which will start any day now.
And another thing...all TV adverts jumping on the bandwagon inevitably have the soundtrack of cheering crowds-but they cannot possibly represent the World Cup crowds as there are no vuvuzelas. Ah, vuvus-has anything ever been devised which is more perfect for the purpose of annoying me? Seriously, fire one of those fuckers off anywhere near me and I promise you will need major surgery to remove it.
Thank you, Ann, for provoking me into writing this here blog, as I've got some of the bile off my chest at least!
Sunday, 13 June 2010
Nekkid!!!!
What is the fusss? You've all got one. It's your body, and it's covered with skin to keep your insides inside your inside.
The World Naked Bike Ride had an event in Cardiff yesterday. I was going to participate, but another engagement came up (honest). The reactions of my friends to my telling them this was, well, frankly, in my view, a bit wierd. Some seemed to believe I would only do it out of some sort of pervyness, several registered disgust at the idea of my naked body being on display (to be fair I'm more oil slick than oil painting, but I've seen worse), and the all-pervading reaction was one of 'oh, no, I couldn't possibly do that!'. All giggled uncomfortably like embarrassed children.
Britain is a funny place to talk about, or do, public naked stuff. Culturally, we are European, though that is sometimes difficult to believe, but it seems to me that attitudes to this on mainland Europe vary but can be very roughly divided into the Mediterannean countries, where long centuries of Catholic influence have equated nakedness with sinfulness and sexuality, and the Northern countries, where the winters are so long, cold and dreadful that as soon as the warm weather turns up they can't wait to get thier kit off. We seem to fall into a sort of unpleasantly prurient crack inbetween. Being publicly naked is not illegal, but using nakedness to threaten,insult or offend is, the law being quite sensible for once. Yesterday's ride had a (uniformed) police escort.
I'd have ridden naked around Cardiff yesterday because firstly I am in agreement with the aims of the WNBR events, which are to focus attention on the world's overdependence on carbon fuels, and to promote the concept that nakedness is a normal and natural thing which should not lead to the sexual objectivication of the naked person, at least not in a public setting, and secondly because, while I am not particularly proud of my own physique, I absolutely refuse to be in any way ashamed of or embarrasssed by it; this I consider to be an adult and healthy attitude.
I do not assume that everyone or anyone else feels the same as I do about this, and I am obviously in a minortiy, but as with all minorities, it would have been nice to have been among like minded folk. I will certainly do it next year if the chance arises.
Then there were the 'practical' objections. Yesterday here was warm and sunny, so no-one could argue that one, but there was 'won't it be uncomfortable? I mean, eeewww....' Well, I don't want to go too far down that line of discussion, but a piece of cloth or tissue between saddle and the area discussed seems a fairly obvious way of avoiding the unpleasantness. 'Suppose you see someone you know in the crowd?' Well, smile and wave, I suppose. IF they know you well enough it'll be no suprise to them, and if they don't, they aren't really that important are they? And the inevitable 'What if you get an erection?' It's World Cup time, hang a Brasilian flag off it... anyone who has ever been publicly naked will tell you that it is just not that sort of situation where an erection occurs, ever. 'But, there'll be women and everything, won't you stare?' No, why would I? Why would you? Get a grip, man-sorry, I mean, control yourself! And, to my mind wierdest of all from some of the ladies 'oh, yeah, if I was young and sexy, then maybe I'd be up for it'. So what are you saying here, girls-that you are natural exhibitionists who are now too ashamed of whatever it is you've got to indulge yourselves. Willing to bet my next pension cheque you were just as shy when you were yonng and sexy anyway-you're fooling no one! This of course relates to another objention 'Yeah, but there'll be some right mingers I bet'. Check yourself out before you comment about other people with more openmindedness than you, buddy.
Come on people, it's only skin! Grow up and get over yourselves...
The World Naked Bike Ride had an event in Cardiff yesterday. I was going to participate, but another engagement came up (honest). The reactions of my friends to my telling them this was, well, frankly, in my view, a bit wierd. Some seemed to believe I would only do it out of some sort of pervyness, several registered disgust at the idea of my naked body being on display (to be fair I'm more oil slick than oil painting, but I've seen worse), and the all-pervading reaction was one of 'oh, no, I couldn't possibly do that!'. All giggled uncomfortably like embarrassed children.
Britain is a funny place to talk about, or do, public naked stuff. Culturally, we are European, though that is sometimes difficult to believe, but it seems to me that attitudes to this on mainland Europe vary but can be very roughly divided into the Mediterannean countries, where long centuries of Catholic influence have equated nakedness with sinfulness and sexuality, and the Northern countries, where the winters are so long, cold and dreadful that as soon as the warm weather turns up they can't wait to get thier kit off. We seem to fall into a sort of unpleasantly prurient crack inbetween. Being publicly naked is not illegal, but using nakedness to threaten,insult or offend is, the law being quite sensible for once. Yesterday's ride had a (uniformed) police escort.
I'd have ridden naked around Cardiff yesterday because firstly I am in agreement with the aims of the WNBR events, which are to focus attention on the world's overdependence on carbon fuels, and to promote the concept that nakedness is a normal and natural thing which should not lead to the sexual objectivication of the naked person, at least not in a public setting, and secondly because, while I am not particularly proud of my own physique, I absolutely refuse to be in any way ashamed of or embarrasssed by it; this I consider to be an adult and healthy attitude.
I do not assume that everyone or anyone else feels the same as I do about this, and I am obviously in a minortiy, but as with all minorities, it would have been nice to have been among like minded folk. I will certainly do it next year if the chance arises.
Then there were the 'practical' objections. Yesterday here was warm and sunny, so no-one could argue that one, but there was 'won't it be uncomfortable? I mean, eeewww....' Well, I don't want to go too far down that line of discussion, but a piece of cloth or tissue between saddle and the area discussed seems a fairly obvious way of avoiding the unpleasantness. 'Suppose you see someone you know in the crowd?' Well, smile and wave, I suppose. IF they know you well enough it'll be no suprise to them, and if they don't, they aren't really that important are they? And the inevitable 'What if you get an erection?' It's World Cup time, hang a Brasilian flag off it... anyone who has ever been publicly naked will tell you that it is just not that sort of situation where an erection occurs, ever. 'But, there'll be women and everything, won't you stare?' No, why would I? Why would you? Get a grip, man-sorry, I mean, control yourself! And, to my mind wierdest of all from some of the ladies 'oh, yeah, if I was young and sexy, then maybe I'd be up for it'. So what are you saying here, girls-that you are natural exhibitionists who are now too ashamed of whatever it is you've got to indulge yourselves. Willing to bet my next pension cheque you were just as shy when you were yonng and sexy anyway-you're fooling no one! This of course relates to another objention 'Yeah, but there'll be some right mingers I bet'. Check yourself out before you comment about other people with more openmindedness than you, buddy.
Come on people, it's only skin! Grow up and get over yourselves...
Monday, 7 June 2010
Philosophy Pheline Stylee
Can't really think of anything much I want to blog about this time, so I think I'll bore you all with stuff about Marx and Engels, who may be better known as 19th century socialist philosophers, but are actually my cats, so named in the hope of irritating my middle-class neighbours in my old place, although this turned out to be a waste of time. Most people just say 'don't you mean Marx and Spencer' or 'who, what?' I just don't know what they teach kids in schools these days, but the social and economic history of the industrial revolution clearly isn't part of it. I have just attempted to attach photos of these guys, but I think the tech has defeated me, and I am not sure how to check that the attachments have actually attached if you see what I mean, as they are not apparent in the preview...
Anyway, if you have the pics, Marx is the black and white one and Engels is the very dark brown one. I had them as kittens just over a year ago in order to deal with a mouse problem in my old flat. They are brothers from the same litter, and constantly amaze me with how different thier personalities are, taking into account that they have never been separated since birth, and thier environment and life experiences have been identical, so this may be of some interest to anyone whose life involves them in a 'nature v nurture' argument.
Now of course these guys are cats, not humans, and there is a limit to how much one can anthropomorphise them, but they have obvious personalities nonetheless. Marx is small, wiry and quite muscular; I regard him as the fitter of the two, though this is without any objective or scientific backing, just my impression. He is the more adventurous, 'laddish' character of the two, a bit of a scruff by cat standards, though I do not feel myself in a position to be judgememntal about this sort of thing. He tends to regard my place as a hotel providing him with food and a place to sleep when he is tired of adventuring (I should point out that both are neutered, so it isn't that sort of behaviour; if I'm not getting any, I don't see why they should), although he is spending a little more time at home in the day over the last few weeks.
Engels is plump, sleek, lazy and affectionate. Paradoxically, he is noticeably the better climber of the pair, and sleeps at the foot of my bed every night making himself a useful winter footwarmer, something his brother would never condescend to doing1 He is a sly and intelligent little sod, who worked out that, if he mewed at the patio door to go out, I would open it for him and Marx would go bounding out of the flat with considerable enthusiasm, leaving E to refuse to go-and having all the food to himself! This sounds like deductive reasoning to me, and it took me some time to wise up to the ruse. He is also by far the more vociferous, engaging in long and involoved discussion with me about fuck knows what, and telling Marx off when he comes in late-I wish I spoke cat... M very rarely says anything, and in fact for his first 6 months of life I thought he might be dumb.
I no longer have a mouse issue, and the pair are really nothing but a drein on my resources in terms of cat food and litter. I wouldn't be without them though; they are a constant supply of amusemnt and affection, items not unwanted in this particular sad old git's life.
Anyway, if you have the pics, Marx is the black and white one and Engels is the very dark brown one. I had them as kittens just over a year ago in order to deal with a mouse problem in my old flat. They are brothers from the same litter, and constantly amaze me with how different thier personalities are, taking into account that they have never been separated since birth, and thier environment and life experiences have been identical, so this may be of some interest to anyone whose life involves them in a 'nature v nurture' argument.
Now of course these guys are cats, not humans, and there is a limit to how much one can anthropomorphise them, but they have obvious personalities nonetheless. Marx is small, wiry and quite muscular; I regard him as the fitter of the two, though this is without any objective or scientific backing, just my impression. He is the more adventurous, 'laddish' character of the two, a bit of a scruff by cat standards, though I do not feel myself in a position to be judgememntal about this sort of thing. He tends to regard my place as a hotel providing him with food and a place to sleep when he is tired of adventuring (I should point out that both are neutered, so it isn't that sort of behaviour; if I'm not getting any, I don't see why they should), although he is spending a little more time at home in the day over the last few weeks.
Engels is plump, sleek, lazy and affectionate. Paradoxically, he is noticeably the better climber of the pair, and sleeps at the foot of my bed every night making himself a useful winter footwarmer, something his brother would never condescend to doing1 He is a sly and intelligent little sod, who worked out that, if he mewed at the patio door to go out, I would open it for him and Marx would go bounding out of the flat with considerable enthusiasm, leaving E to refuse to go-and having all the food to himself! This sounds like deductive reasoning to me, and it took me some time to wise up to the ruse. He is also by far the more vociferous, engaging in long and involoved discussion with me about fuck knows what, and telling Marx off when he comes in late-I wish I spoke cat... M very rarely says anything, and in fact for his first 6 months of life I thought he might be dumb.
I no longer have a mouse issue, and the pair are really nothing but a drein on my resources in terms of cat food and litter. I wouldn't be without them though; they are a constant supply of amusemnt and affection, items not unwanted in this particular sad old git's life.
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